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“No, I do.”
“Then what’s the rush?”
My eyebrows pull together. “The rush? There isn’t one. You told me I could stay until I found a place. I found a place. What’s the problem?”
“Because I liked having you there!” he vehemently says in a hushed voice.
“Well, I can’t stay,” I tell him in the same tone.
“Why not?”
“Because you said yourself that we’re not quite there yet and I still don’t…don’t…” Still don’t what?
“You still don’t trust me,” he finishes quietly. Trace takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed so I can’t see the pain, and he grabs the back of his neck. I don’t know what to say. It’s like he’s gutted me all over again. Those hazel eyes appear and the pain is unmistakable. “I’m doing everything I know to do. Eventually, it’s going to be up to you to make the decision because it’s going to become a decision. I love you. Maybe I shouldn’t have walked away, but what doesn’t change is the fact that I had shit of my own that I needed to work out. I’m still a work in progress, Britt, but I’m way better now than I was before. I can easily promise with the utmost certainty that I’m not walking away or abandoning you again.” He takes a deep breath, as if he’s releasing all the tension in his voice. “Do you still hate me, Britt?”
All I can do is shake my head.
“If you want to go, then go. Things can return to normal. But if you want to actually move in with me, share my room and my house, then you’re welcome to do that as well; I’ll be thrilled. Either way, it’s up to you.” Then he walks away from me.
I crumple into the nearby chair and watch him walk to Ben. He laughs as if everything is okay. I feel like I’ve broken something with us. Did I mess up? I know Trace is doing everything he can to help me restore my trust in him, and I’m as open as I can be. This stuff takes time. He’s not giving us any time.
But everyone keeps telling me that I’m not doing as much as I can. Or that I’m worrying too much. Or that I should give Trace more credit. Be more open. Be more trusting until he’s earned it. What if I’m the one messing us up this time?
What if I move out and Trace never asks me to move in for real?
What if this is some critical moment in our relationship and I make the wrong decision?
Damn it all to hell, I hate what ifs. Now I’m at a complete loss as to what I should do. I want to do both, but that’s not possible. What I really need is to talk to my mom. Or maybe my dad, to get his perspective. I hate feeling conflicted. Can’t someone else make this decision for me? But then I’d have to decide who I choose to make it. Life is a never-ending process of making decisions and I’m fed up with it, which really sucks because there’s no way around it.
The party goes on around me while I tune out and start thinking of pros and cons of living with Trace.
Pro: He says he wants me to stay, so it’s obvious he’s still wanting to work things out.
Pro: I can do what everyone is telling me to do: jump in, trust him, and hope it works out.
Con: If it doesn’t work out, I’m screwed out of where to live.
Con: I’m not sure we’re ready for this.
Pro: On the other hand, even if we’re not, living together could force things along.
Pro: I’d definitely save on living expenses by only paying for half of the bills instead of all of my bills.
Pro: Trace’s house is just as close to work as the projected new apartment.
Shit, I need more cons. This isn’t looking to be a tit-for-tat list like I thought it would be. The only thing I have going for the cons is that they are big cons. But some of the pros are really big too. I just need to make a decision and stick with it.
“Hungry?”
I glance up, since I had my elbows propped on my knees and my face in my palms. Trace is holding two plates of food, one outstretched to me. “Thanks,” I say as I take it and balance it on my knees.
Trace takes the seat to
my left and we quietly begin to eat. I try to pay attention to the loud and rowdy people around us, noting that Ben, now that he’s finished cooking, is all eyes and ears on Melissa. It’s pretty cool that the two of them have hit it off like they have. Trace clears his throat and I glance over at him. He’s watching me.
“Do you know how last year all we were worried about was how we might be making each other worse?”
I nod. Why does he have to bring that up? It’s painful. I don’t care what people say, I don’t need the bad to appreciate the good.
